


Spilled Wine

by Blue_hare



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ACWNR, Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Compliant, Confused Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Erwin Smith can be an idiot, First Meetings, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin) is Bad At Feelings, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin) is In Denial, M/M, Pining Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Pre-Canon, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, The Underground, Underground Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Unresolved Sexual Tension, not explicit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23257282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_hare/pseuds/Blue_hare
Summary: Levi can't stop thinking about that Blonde bastard he saw Undergound.A/U following thefirst timeErwin and Levi met, per the No Regrets manga bonus story, The Unknown Encounter.
Relationships: Levi/Erwin Smith
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. :)  
> I hope you are all safe and doing okay given the current world pandemic. This self-quarantine is seriously pushing me to write and update cuz there's nothing else to do, so here's a current work that's been buzzing around my mind. If you've read or are lucky enough to own the No Regrets you are probably aware of Erwin and Levi's first meeting and boy was there sexual tension right away. This came about after I began to wonder what happened afterwards, between that and the Underground chase. Hope you guys like it. :)

. 

. 

. 

The scent of wine lingers, fragmented against the intensity of adrenaline that permeates the entirety of that memory; the way gold gleamed in a world where light was nonexistent, where blue was but a strip of color though the gap of a hole in an all encompassing ceiling (save for that spot, save for that strip of blue, of freedom). That gaze had left him breathless just as much, or perhaps because of _that,_ as irritated. 

When they land in the northernmost part of the Underground city, Isabelle woops out loud, throwing her arms up in the air. Adrenaline from the flight and the unplanned scuffle with those idiots, never failing to give her a rush of excitement. 

Besides her, Furlan tries to shush her even as the corners of his mouth are curling up into a grin. She’s always had an infectious spirit. One that even the recesses of the Underground cannot contain, have yet not dampered. 

“Did you see the faces on those pigs? Just standing around and fumbling and screaming like babies!” She cackles hopping on one foot and then the other, emerald eyes gleaming, her black hood falling away completely, copper hair bright in a world of grey and black, of shit and filth. 

Furlan simply shakes his head, silently agreeing with Isabelle. He turns to the side to confirm with Levi that despite the delay, they're still on for the job for the b-rated gang that hired them. He's surprised by the others' appearance. He looks startled or overcomed in some way? Something unusual in his countenance. 

“You alright there boss?” 

He takes a step closer, removing his own hood. “Don't tell me the bald, fat, barrel-of-man got a hit on ya?!”

“Ehhh! Big Bro would never let a filthy rat like him touch him!” Isabelle replies, indignant on his behalf. 

Levi just shakes his head, fixing his hood over his face, ensuring he’s covered…. Farlan quirks an eyebrow, _Huh?_ And wonders whether he's annoyed at him calling him “boss” (he knows Levi hates it) or maybe it’s just that they’ve wasted time(?). But then Levi takes to the air and calls out. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time!” 

In the time it takes for them to complete their job, Furlan forgets all about the peculiar and slightly strained breathlessness of Levi’s voice. 

. 

. 

He’s settling down to a cup of supposedly ‘fine’ tea, at least that's what the gang's leader “Rats” or “Rolts” or whatever vermin name the guy was called, had given them. Furlan had joked, on the way home, that it was getting around that the fearsome Levi, of the Underground, had a weakness for high quality tea. 

“Pretty soon they’ll be only paying us in tea and then you’ll finally be able to open up that teashop, Levi.” 

“Shut up, Furlan.” He hisses, perhaps with more bite than necessary. Not that Furlan or Isabelle notice. Both are just way too content with the payment they received. 

He kinda regrets telling him about it.

Things like “dreams” don't amount to much in the Underground. He’d sooner end up dead or with crippled legs, the same as anyone else living below those rich pieces a shit above ground. But, as he watches them laugh and tease one another about what they will do with their payment, he can't deny them their own dreams and no matter what, he can't deny his own. 

He takes another drink, savoring the strong flavor, glad that at least the tea wasn’t a dissapointment. It was the same type as the one he’d won, thanks to that arm wrestling contest, about a month ago, at that bar they frequented. _Luck_ seemed to be turning around for them lately but not everyone in their little gang had benefited from it. Jan seemed to be getting worse with his legs after all. 

He wonders how soon it’d be till they’d have to tell him he’d be out on the sidelines, where it would mean getting a smaller part of their earnings? He’s considered making an exception for him and then stops himself… Hadn’t Kenny taught him how fucking reckless and not worth shit(!), it was to have a soft heart. 

_“Don't make that face brat. You think someone giving away their food will survive long enough in this shithole? No! If you’re so keen on dying cuz of a soft heart I'll make it easier. Heck, I'll feed you to the titans myself. They're always hungry.”_

Not that it mattered much to listen to that bastard after he’d up and abandoned him. 

He grimaces drinking the last of his tea, the burn distracting enough to dispel those particular memories. 

Except, that what his mind conjures next isn’t what he wants to think about either. 

The scent of spilled wine... Gold… Blue… Gleaming eyes. _Wings..._

He stands abruptly, startling Isabel and Furlan. He pays them no mind and quickly moves to rinse his cup. He heads to the door and says good night, then leaves, ignoring their calls of “Where ya going?” 

It isn’t that late yet, but it might as well be with how dark and dim everything was Underground. He’s got no particular place to go in mind but he just needs to be alone... To just do something to get rid of _that_ image from his head. 

_Fucking Blonde creep and his weird blue eyes._

But, he can't help but flashback to that moment. 

He’d seen him out the corner of his eyes just as he’d yanked hard on the end of the hook he'd stuck into the barrow of wine behind the man he'd run into. He’d thought the blonde would move and try to stop him, he was wearing a Military uniform after all. But no, he didn’t. He just stood there, watching and then, while he'd momentarily been distracted, the other asshole had pulled that gun and shot at him. 

He acted on instinct, flipping over, and coming down hard on his companion - the bald con man, the one that started it all. In the meantime, Furlan and Isabelle used Levi’s distraction to take down the two others. They’d lost time dealing with those assholes and they attracted unwanted attention. So much so, that it would have been better if they flew to try and make up some time. 

He had not even been in the air long before there was a niggling on his back. Some fucking _annoyance._

_Those fucking MP’s._

He turned his head, just the slightest, in the direction he’d remember seeing that MP. 

_Gold._

That had been the first thing that he thought of and then… he saw the crest and those wings. 

He'd never seen them before. 

He'd heard of them, the crazy fucks that went outside and beyond the walls, to titan infested territory just to be devoured by them. He’d always wanted to see just what kinda’ fools would willingly go out there? To be trampled and face the horrors that were the _titans._ Just what sorta damn fool would pretend to be some sorta hot-shot hero?

_Blue._

The freaks eyes were _blue_ and he’d been _leering_ at Levi. Eyes fucking intense and creepy as fuck, and that. Goddamn. Smile. 

No. it had been a _smirk._ As if Levi had been some sort of amusing and interesting thing he'd come to see for his entertainment. 

_Disgusting Pig_

But it made his heart quicken. Made him prickle all over with shivers and his ears, his neck, _burn._ He’d looked away but he could feel that heavy gaze on him the entire way. It was fucking uncomfortable. And when he landed he’d notice how tight he’d been holding onto the grip release. It hadn’t been all, he could he feel how fucking tense he’d been. 

_Creep,_ he thinks again, finally settling his thoughts, focusing on the present and looking around him. He grimaces when he realizes where it is that he’s ended up at. 

_Shit._

He looks around, and of fucking course the place is empty. It’s late and that's when it really gets dangerous around here. Of course, most of those shit MP’s have hightailed it off and away by now, aboveground. Probably asleep in their fancy houses, or in the Underground brothels, balls deep in some desperate, underaged, Underground girl. _Or boy._

His brow furrows, unbitten memories surfacing. 

There’s a sudden hand on his shoulder. His hand shoots out and wraps around it, squeezing tightly, the other one easily going for his hidden knife and pressing it on the others stomach. He hadn’t even heard them approaching. 

“Shit. It’s me, Levi.” 

“The fuck you think you’re doing putting your hands on me Bastian!” 

He hisses, still not letting loose but retreating his knife away from the others stomach.

“Geez, I forgot how uptight you get about touching you…. unless it's with my mouth.” 

“Shut up.” he hisses, low and harsh enough that Sebastian looks away chagrined. 

“Sorry, I forget not to say anything about th---” 

Levi glares at him and finally the bastard gets it that he ought to shut his mouth up. A sight better he looks with his mouth shut too. Levi feels heat flare low in his belly at that thought. 

Sebastian has been someone he’s used in the past, and now...he has a need of him or more precisely, his mouth. 

“You busy?” he asks casually but voice full of _intent,_ letting his wrist lose. 

Sebastian perks right up, honeyed eyes gleaming, hip popping to the side as he licks his lips all nice and shiny. 

“Can’t say I am. Think you can keep me company?” 

He hates these kinda games but even so, he simply rolls his eyes. “If you can keep your mouth shut.” 

“You can shut it for me.” Bastian says lasciviously as he leads the way back to the small room he keeps on the opposite direction from whence Levi came. 

Upon their arrival, Levi is satisfied to see that he’s kept it nice and tidy. And later, when he's got his back leaned against the cold wall, and Sebastian kneeling before him, all nice and quiet, and busy with his length, he can't help but thrust his hips as he pleases. He’s wound up tight. Probably from the job earlier. He groans as that tight space contracts when Bastian tries to swallow. He can't help gripping and pushing his hair back, the sudden urge to want to see him, as he gets to work, overwhelming. 

Sebastian looks up, face flushed with color, eyes bright, and Levi’s stomach tenses as he groans out in surprise as his pleasure shoots out, straight down that tight space. He’s gripping too hard onto Sebastians hair but he _needs_ to hold onto something. He breathes hard, legs feeling all numb and weak. _Fuck._

He’s still feeling the after effects of his release when Bastian pulls on his hands, urging him to loosen and let go of his hair. 

“Shit, Levi,” He says coughing some and wiping around his mouth. “You sure let loose. Ya’ pent up or something?” 

Levi doesn’t say anything merely grunts, busying himself with putting himself away, to control the lightheadedness of his mind. He doesn't offer to reciprocate or any apologies for the unusual rough treatment. He makes sure to leave extra on the drawer as he leaves, not once turning to look back at Sebastian. He tells himself that it doesn't look like he’s running away. Even though he is. 

He doesn’t feel any better. He still wound up tight. And worst of all he feels some deep unexplainable shame twisted with his persisting desire. 

He ends up at that same bar he won that tea at. He hardly notices the ol’ lady fluttering her eyes at him behind the counter or the owner send scowl after scowl, his way. He pays extra for the bottle of good unwatered down alcohol and downs the contents near one after the other. 

But nothing. 

That damn cursed image as he came and released down Sebastian's mouth remains burned clear and bright. 

Fucking, perfectly, combed gold hair a riot with his hands holding and yanking at it, thick-eyebrowed-blue eyes leering at him, and creepy ass smile still visible, even wrapped around his length. 

And Levi had come downright embarrassingly fast at that illusion, with the sort of intensity that he’d usually come when he was getting it from behind. The thought of that false memory alone had him tensing and heat flaring yet again. 

He orders two more shots after he finishes the bottle, trying to focus on the burn on his throat. 

When he got back, both Isabelle and Furlan were asleep. He was thankful for that as he took himself in hand and came again to the image of that nameless, golden-haired Scout and his damn wings; one silver and one blue. 

The buzzing, sizzling pleasure was just enough to override the disgust and shame he felt at being so affected by someone he’d likely never see. 

The titans had a higher chance of eating Blondie than he did. 

And suddenly he’s the one kneeling, mouth busy around a hefty girth, the blonde pushing his black hair away. That same intense blue gaze and that leering smile curling at the corners as he called his name, _“Levi.”_

Heat flared for the third time. Levi cursed, biting down on his bottom lip. “Shit.” 

The guy was probably fucking some pretty and slim thing every other day off or maybe he was the married sort, who’d leave a widow with a pair of creepy eyed brats when he’d inevitably die. 

At that thought, Levi groaned, not liking the thought of the nameless Blonde dying one bit. _Shit. Shit!_

He got up to clean himself up and give himself a good slap in the face. 

_What the hell is the matter with me?_

He couldn't sleep so he set himself to doing a series of pushups and situps till he was breathing heavy and his arms and abs burned real good. Only then did he fall asleep. 

He was thankful he couldn’t recall at all whether he dreamed despite the fact that he woke to a mess that more than made it clear what(who) it had been about. 

. 

. 

During the next month he was short and irritable. Furlan and Isabelle knew him well enough not to ask any question and tended to stay clear from him when he was in a mood by then. The image of that Blondie remained clear in his mind and more than he’d care to admit, he’d taken himself in hand to find release, hopeful that with one of those times he’d purge the bastards face from his mind. 

Except that blonde Scout persisted and haunted him. 

So much so, that he’d made inquiries to try and settle whatever it was that was itching under his skin. But nobody knew much of anything. There hadn't been any reports of Scouts since then, not that anybody even differentiated between one uniformed pig and the next. And a man like that; all gold hair and blue eyes and looking like the duke of shitsomethin’ above ground, was hard to miss. Even the girls in the brothels weren’t any help. Levi hoped that perhaps he had been down here that day to seek some of that carnal pleasure all the others came down here for. 

“Shit, I sure as heck remember someone like you're describing hun, if he came a looking and poking anywhere near me.” Leta let the smoke spiral from her rouged mouth. “Sounds like a prince or sumthin’. You sure that's how he looks?” He assured her he did and ignored the fact that he felt a twist of relief that the Blondie hadn’t visited the brothels as he'd suspected. 

He’d begun to wonder if maybe he’d been remembering things wrong. 

Maybe he’d just seen things wrong?

And the more he thought about it the more he convinced himself of just that. A Scout in the Underground? He snorted, _Yeah, right._ A guy that looked like that wouldn’t join the Scouts, he thought. 

He stopped, slow realization creeping in. 

“Not when he probably _was_ some nobles or aristocraps bastard son.” 

Kenny used to shit on Scouts the same as anyone else but, he did give them credit for actually fighting, whatever good that did, the titans. 

_“You ain’t never gonna see the bastards upstairs do the same.”_

But he’d said sometimes, those bastards’ kids got it into their shitty brains that they wanted to join the Scouts. To be a hero. Course, the minute they saw the titans they changed their mind and begged for a transfer. So, if it was like Levi suspected, the blonde he’d seen was either some new MP (there weren’t any age restrictions for joining the Military anyway), that had just been assigned Underground or some brat that had chickened out from joining the Scouts and just transferred to the MP’s pigs. 

With that thought in mind he waited, wanting to confirm that the bastard had just been a pretty face, and a coward, through and through. The same as all the rest of the corrupt pigs that looked down on them and thought of them as insects. Someone like that, was not worth getting all wound up about, at all. The thought alone did alleviate some of the persistent itch below his skin. 

And then Nicholas Lobov came a knocking. 

. 

. 

. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and so they meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy and happy Friday!  
> If you're familiar with all 3 versions of Levi's backstory you'll notice my fusion(attempt) of all three.

. 

. 

. 

_He has a name._

He grunts. 

_He wasn't some phantom he simply conjured up._

The next thrust shoots a burst of pain-pleasure up his spine. The hands on his hips are bruising. “Harder” He hisses. 

He hears a hum, his legs spreading, back arching as Gerált pulls all the way out before thrusting back in _hard_ , and not letting up - continuing to thrust hard just as Levi wanted him to. Pleasure builds up and it coils tightly. Levi takes himself in hand and he bites his lip just as he comes, stopping himself from calling out _his_ name. 

Behind him, he feels Gerált pull out and, for just a moment, he considers looking back. He hears him as he grips himself furiously and feels strips of hot spunk land on his ass. And Levi, laying completely on the thin mattress - lightheaded and still buzzing with pleasure, with the satisfaction of knowing his name, imagines it’s that blondie- arches his back, pushing his hips out like some sort of heat ridden-cat. 

“Fuck, Levi.” he hears from behind him. The voice is different and it's that which has Levi finally looking back, eyes half-lidded and glazed over, and he does something he otherwise wouldn’t. 

He pushes Gerált back and clambers over him, takes him (he's hard again after Levi’s uncharacteristic, little display) in hand, and rides him fiercely, with a mind half-mad in the pursuit of pleasure. It’s like he's lost to his mad pleasure and all wound up again. Like the only thing he can see is gold hair and blue eyes, none of which match Gerált at all. He can't help looking down when he comes this time and there he is… 

That goddamn smile, that goddamn leer. 

He bites his tongue, his pleasure shooting out, the others filling him inside. 

He’s breathing hard, they both are. He doesn’t move just yet but, slowly, he’s coming back to himself. His mind cleared up. His muscles are sore, his body sweaty and Gerált is still inside him, spunk leaking and --- _Disgusting!_

“Fucking Erwin Smith.” He hisses. 

“Wha-- Hey!” Levi pushes Gerált’s face to the side, gets up heading to the washroom, discarded clothes in hand, without saying anything. When he comes back Geralt is still laying nude on the bed, a lit cigarette hanging from between his lips. He leers at Levi and the thought runs across him that its not at all like Erw--- _Fucking shit!_ He heads to the door but not before hearing Gerált. 

“Anytime you find yourself in the mood for that again, I’m down Levi.” 

Levi makes sure his hand, middle finger up, is the last thing Gerált sees as he exits. 

Outside he feels that familiar feeling of shame-anger creeping in. There’s a part of him that is near hysterics. He curses that Blondie for flipping his world upside down. For making him delirious with desire just as much as loathing. He feels mad with power and weak at the same time. 

He’s just imagined that Blondie fucking him, he’s imagined himself riding him. He snorts. It wasn’t just _now,_ it’s been happening ever since he saw him, he has to (bitterly) admit. There’s a sort of madness that he’s brought forth from Levi’s depths. Madness that he never knew himself capable of (and that he'd thought he’d learned to control). Lust and loathing. Yes, he can admit that he desires him and yet Levi is starting to _loathe_ him, his annoyance transforming.

He scoffs. 

“What kinda fucking name is _Erwin Smith,_ Blondie?!”

. 

. 

_“A man in the Survey Corps named Erwin Smith is trying to capture you and enlist you in the Military.” ___

____

Levi was calm as the hooded man explained himself but inside, his heart had jumped at the mention of the Survey Corps, his mind promptly flashing to that encounter. That’s why, despite his own suspicion regarding the man and what he was asking of them, he still let Furlan tail him. His damn curiosity not just wanting to confirm the identity of that “certain figure.” But more so, to confirm the identity of the Scout that was making a fool out of Levi’s carefully controlled countenance and libido.

____

When the identity of that certain figure turned out to be a noble man named Nicholas Lobov, Furlan started scheming… And just a few days later, the messenger himself introduced them to Lobov and again it was the same words, the same promises; in exchange for money and for citizenship above ground, find and obtain some documents, and kill Squad Leader Ewin Smith, of the Scouting Legion. 

____

When they got back, he wondered if it was exactly as Furlan had said - that Smith had obtained some damning information about the noble? For some reason that made him inexplicably satisfied and amused, wondering what it was that Blondie had done to piss off the noble. He entertained the idea, for the first time, whether there could really be men from above ground, _from the Military,_ that weren’t that bad at all…?

____

Furlan’s plans and schemes aside, Levi was satisfied knowing that the Blondie hadn’t been a bizarre figment he’d conjured up. The shame he’d begun to feel for lusting after, what could have been, an MP pig dissolved quickly. If he had to lust after anybody from the Military, he’d take a Scout over an MP any day, heck even a drunk Garrison was better than those corrupt pigs. Still, it didn’t make him feel that much better, after all that man had so quietly and without notice left him such a messed up wreck with _one_ mere encounter. He’d begun to hate him. It had felt weird to hate a nameless, would-be-phantom. _Knowing_ his name made Levi’s disdain justified, made it that much more real. 

____

Except it also made his persistent and unshakeable lust just as real (had made it surge even, after he’d ignored it so long - no wanking, no visits to Bastian) and it’s why he had gone off in search of Gerált - hoping to that with a literal, thorough fuck, the guy would fucking leave him alone. Like Sebastian, Gerált was someone he used. 

____

. 

____

. 

____

Iron. 

____

Like the shit, _the filth,_ that permeates the Underground, Levi _hates_ the smell of blood just as much. But he _knows_ it. It’s one of the many things that is constant in the Underground (like darkness, the cold, and hunger). It means death, it means life, it means _survival._

____

He elbows one of the three men and plunges his knife in his gut and twists it as he withdraws back. The man hardly makes a sound as he sinks to the ground, clutching his stomach, blood soaking his already dirt stained shirt. Levi pays no mind to him and simply moves on to the next one. He’s taller than his companion and that makes him overconfident when he stares down at Levi. He’s easier to take down. The last man is the leader, a stupid one at that if he hasn't figured out that he ought to run, not that it matters. Levi would find him and make him pay. 

____

He takes his time with this one. He wants to savor this; to enjoy the adrenaline that violence brings out. Levi is aware of this side of him, the one that relishes bloodlust and violence. At times like these, he wonders if Kenny would be proud of him?

“Who the fuck are yo-?” 

____

He presses hard on the man's knee. The pain, after consecutive kicks, making him wail. 

Levi shows him the knife, the end bloody. The man whimpers pathetically. 

____

He wonders if _he,_ when the time comes, would react the same way? But he can't see that, can't imagine it all...

____

At that thought, he kicks the man harder, pushing him so that he's laying on his front, then pushing his face on the muddied, dirtied ground. He straddles him, arm around his neck, pressing harshly on his windpipe. “You shouldn’t have touched her.” 

____

The man gurgles a strained, “What?”

____

“You shouldn’t have cut off her hair.” 

____

The man tenses below him this time. _He knows._ But he still splutters that he didn’t know Isabelle was part of his gang. 

____

Levi draws the knife at eye-level. The man stops talking and starts shaking. 

____

“Don’t lie, you shit.” Levi hisses, low and cold. “Everyone _knows_ she’s part of my gang and they know what happens if anybody hurts any one of them.” 

____

“P...pleas--”

____

“I get fucking pissed.” Levi says at last, cutting along the man's throat. The blood is hot as it runs down and soaks his hand. 

____

He gets up and pulls a cloth from within his cloak. He wipes his hands before the blood congeals, then wipes his blade, and wraps in that same cloth. There’s a strange numbness to him now. A blankness as he stares at the dead men around him. He doesn’t feel pity. No, it’s just like Kenny taught him. 

____

_“If you know how to use this knife, you’ll know how to survive and how to take vengeance into your own hands. How to make anybody pay.”_

____

He leaves right after, not wanting to smell the thick iron of pooling blood any longer. 

____

____

_“You were reckless.”_

____

But Kenny’s voice does not leave him. 

____

“Shut up.” 

____

_“Still picking fights like a brat when you're pissed off, eh, Levi.”_

He grimaces and this time says nothing. He knows he should have finished them off quickly, should have simply threatened them for what they did to Isabelle. He rationalizes that, at least they deserved it. 

____

_But does he?_

____

When he gets back Furlan is sitting with a book open at the table. He stands up when he sees him enter, face and eyes cold, still holding onto the knife wrapped in bloodied cloth. 

____

“Levi… Did you kill them..?” 

____

He doesn’t answer, yanking his cloak off rather dramatically, if Furlan is honest.

____

He doesn’t push for an answer. He knows that Levi did. Those gang leaders won't bother Isabelle any longer, and hopefully no one ever will again...if things work out as he’s planned. He only wishes Levi wouldn't be so damn _obsessed_ with being the one to kill Smith. He doesn’t understand his inexplicable and bizarre fixation with the Scout. 

____

He sighs and closes his book, hoping that whatever is going on with Levi, his strange obsession won't end up hurting them. He goes over the plan once more thinking of what their lives could be like once they’re above ground. No more of Isabelle crying herself to sleep and no more of Levi with bloodied hands and that cold gaze. Or his indifferent expression. 

They’ll be happy and best of all, free. 

____

Levi doesn't bother asking about Isabelle’s wellbeing, simply passes by her small room after he washes up, heading up to his own room. He sits on a chair and takes the now clean blade in hand and begins to re-sharpen it. Kenny’s words lingering on his mind. 

____

It’s true. 

____

If Isabelle had not returned scuffled and with one of her pigtails cut off, he would have gone off in search of a fight _elsewhere._ He can’t help it. He knows it’s childish and immature. But when he begins to feel out of control and that things are out of his grasp, the only way he feels like he’s getting back some sense of that control, is through fighting, through violence. And, for the last month and half or so, he’s felt that control slipping. All because of someone he’s only seen once, someone that might as well have been a phantom, and was until just a week or so ago. But he is not.

____

The scent of spilled wine... Gold… Blue… Gleaming eyes. _Wings..._

____

It all started then. His loss of control can all be traced back to that meeting. But now, thanks to Lobov, he has a name, and has someone to blame. His knife glints sharp and deadly as he inspects it. 

____

“Fucking Erwin Smith.” he touches his finger tip to the edge. He slashes the air. “Just you wait Blondie, if you come, I’ll kill you.” 

____

_Gold… Blue… Gleaming eyes and the scent of spilled wine mixed with iron, with blood._

____

__He ignores his inability to picture that Blondie_ dead_ or what it could mean. 

. 

. 

“Hey, Levi do you really think that Scout is gonna recruit us?” Isabelle asks from where she sits cross-legged, as Levi fixes the mess that those bastards made of her hair. 

“Yeah. I do.” He’s relieved she appears unaffected by those bastards. “Back then, when we did that job for the Rats guy. Do you remember that scuffle with those three con men?” 

She nods. 

“I saw them. The Scouts. At the time I thought I was just seeing things. I’ve never seen a Scout afterall. But no, I saw the _Wings of Freedom_ on his breast pocket.” 

Furlan comes back then, gas canisters refilled in hand. 

Not knowing when or if Smith would come for them, they had prepared for the eventuality. They’ve carefully moved most of their contraband into different hideouts, dispatching them with the rest of their gang, not wanting to leave any sort of evidence for those Military pigs. Luckily, they’d move the barrels containing bootleg wine weeks ago at Levi’s insistence. He’d grown sick of the smell, it overwhelmed his senses and served as a constant reminder of that day. Today, for the first time since they met Lobov, they will head out, maneuvering gear strapped in place and hidden underneath their cloaks. 

“So that’s why you’ve been acting weird and asking around about some “blondie” huh?” 

Levi’s eyes widen at Furlan’s knowledge. Sometimes he forgets that, of the three, Furlan has a broader reach and a network of contacts in the Underground. He nods. 

“But...” Furlan furrows his brow, trying to recall that day. “There were two men, both of them blonde. Right?” 

Levi shrugs, “Only saw one.” 

Furlan frowns as he stares at Levi with a raised eyebrow. 

“And you think that was this, Smith?” 

_Gold. Blue. Gleaming eyes. A leering smile. Wings._

“Yeah, I've no doubt about it. That creep was Erwin Smith.” 

“That means he’ll probably have a squad with him. Although I don't know too much about the way the Scouts are structured, we’ll assume that there are more than what we’ve seen with the Military Police. That is, if they come like Lobov said.” 

Levi doesn't answer, finishing up with Isabelle, and removing the cloth around her shoulders, beginning to sweep the floor clean. She gratefully thanks him as she starts to put in place the gas canisters and fiddle with the straps. Levi can tell that despite their careful planning (mostly Furlans) they’re nervous. In the end, _if_ he comes for them, it will be he that decides their course of action... 

“Levi, are we really gonna do this?” 

He doesn’t answer, caressing the outline of his knife. 

_Only if._

. 

. 

Exhilaration rushes through him with each easy, but complex, maneuver he makes, as he tries to throw off the two Scouts after him. He wants to see how good they really are, wants to test the abilities of these people that go out and fight titans when they could simply be. 

And that’s a problem. 

The plan doesn’t call for actually going all out but...he _wants_ to. He can no longer tell which one of them is Smith; the hood of their cloaks still firmly covering their faces, but he knows one of them is. He _saw_ him as they doubled backed at the pillar - the easy smirk on his face could belong to no one else. And then, when they switched directions mid-flight, the second sighting of that leering smile and those blue eyes - this time they had glowed like lightning - and Levi experienced a set of uncalled for _shivers_ running up and down his spine. Yeah, Levi _wants_ to see just how fucking good that Blondie is. 

But it’s not just him that he wants to measure up. Levi is proud of his team but they still have to use verbal communication, if not, cues and signals. What he's seen of Smith’s squad, by this point, he must (unwillingly) commend the ease in which they move and coordinate. It clearly shows a cohesiveness and a trust that takes years and experience to cultivate. Still, the Underground belongs to Levi. They have come to his domain and there’s no reason why he can't show that he knows it and _holds_ the advantage. 

He flies faster, using the walls and narrow spaces that he’s familiar with to evade and quickly scramble through with practiced ease. He passes through a dilapidated building; running, jumping and flipping past obstacles in all his feline-like ways. 

If Levi is a bird in the sky, on the ground he is a cat. 

He's upside down, mid-flip, finally taking the chance to look at just how far away they are from him. 

“Lost ‘em, huh?”

He weaves back, a strange feeling that is very much that of disappointment settles in the pit of his stomach. He’s turning around when a blonde soldier (its not Smith) rushes him. He’s fucking fast but so is Levi. He uses his momentum against him, throwing him over and down, before he escapes again. Levi turns back the way he came from. There’s a hooded figure, _(Smith?)_ that forces him back inside to the building he initially emerged from. He’s feeling confident, those Scouts can fly some but they can’t fight worth shit. 

Then the fucking ceiling comes down on him, except it didn't just come down, that other blonde, shaggy bastard brought it down with him(!). They fight, the guy is good but that's not who Levi wants to fight and so he feels no remorse as he seriously tries to injure him. He knocks one of the blades away from the shaggy giant, hand immediately withdrawing his knife out. Only then does the thought hit him. 

_There should be one more… Smith? Is he hiding off somewhere?_

He looks around himself. 

_NO fucking way!_

And Smith is there, coming down on him from up top. Levi's eyes widened upon realization. That very move easily familiar to him. Did that Blondie really think he wouldn't recognize his own move from that day. He would scoff, direct a sneer of his own, if he wasn’t so _damn_ pissed off! 

Smith’s hood falls away, his blonde hair falling across his forehead flawlessly (Levi _hates_ it). Levi doesn’t miss a beat despite this. He duels him with just his knife, forgetting completely about anything and anyone else. Blondie knocks his blade away but it's not the only he has. He flips back taking the smaller one with the bent end, from the sole of his boot, and surges right back into the blondie's face. 

_Think you can just copy my goddamn move, you son of a bitch?!_

He manages to scrape the end on his blade on the side of his face, just barely a scratch on the edge of his jaw. The other guy gets up and means to interfere but Levi and Smith are much too fast, and this time, when they meet again, they draw closer. 

Awareness, once forgotten, resurfaces from amongst the rush of adrenaline. 

He’s so close. He's so _goddamn tall._

His blue eyes, from beneath those ridiculous eyebrows, are cold, lacking any of that intensity from Levi’s memories, but Levi _burns_ all the same. His large hand on his slim wrist scalding and he just so _unbearably aware_ of their size difference. Of how Smith fucking _dominates._

So he pushes forward; unsure if he's trying to draw closer or if he wants to make it clear that he’s not one to be dominated. To submit.

Smith doesn’t give or budge, merely squeezes his wrist tighter, so that the pain of his bones grinding against each other, makes him grit his teeth, and breath out a snarl. 

“Stop. Take a look around you.” 

His voice is deep and commanding and domineering. A part of him thinks that the phantom voice he’d heard isn't all that off from the real thing. But he shakes that off as they withdraw appart, taking a look at Isabelle and Furlan as the other two Scouts bring them closer, but once ensuring that they’re fine, his gaze returns back to Smith. He’s got a handkerchief pressed to the cut on his jaw. Levi can almost smell his blood. 

It's satisfying to know he got him and that dulls the pain and the leftover burning sensation on his wrist. 

His anger however does not dull away or recede. It keeps rising, more so, when they have them all lined up and kneeling on the filthy ground. Their hands are held behind them, not in ropes but in wooden shackles. They've been thoroughly searched and stripped of weapons. Levi had been vibrating with barely suppressed ire as that shaggy-haired asshole put his giant hands all over him (he swore he sniffed him like some sort of mutt). All the while Smith had remained at a distance, face impassive. 

Levi hates it. 

So he stays impassive as Smith questions them. Where did you get your hands on this? Who taught you? Both go unanswered. Levi grits his teeth with each question - he finds his voice incredibly annoying. And because the initial adrenaline from earlier has vanished he only feels a deep resentment towards the blonde man. He has not looked at him since he was forced to his knees, as if they lesser than they. It's why he’s able to see just how close Smith suddenly is to him. 

It's the first time since their fight that he’s said anything directly to him. 

“You are the leader, right?” Levi does not look up. “Have you ever received Military training?” 

_As if you don't already know._

Levi finally looks up at him because it's offensive just for him to hear him say that. As if he’d join those corrupt pigs. So he glares with far more menace and disgust. And Smith notices and comments on this. 

“That is the face of a man…” Levi wonders if he’s just imagining the amusement in his blue eyes. “...who wants to kill me and escape.” 

_You have no fucking idea…_

He’s caught up in that thought, so he misses Smith's signal to the soldier behind him, not until his hair is being gripped and yanked hard, and then his face is slammed down into the puddle of filthy and putrid sewer water in front of him. The smell is overwhelming but it's the _feeling_ of grit, and slime that has him hearing alarm bells. He is at a disadvantage with the giant fucker still holding him, with enough force that he can do nothing but turn to the side, teeth gritted in order to not breath that shit in. It's shocking just how much he can hate and glare at one man.

Smith is done playing nice. This time his voice and presence leaves no room for disobedience as he repeats his question. Still Levi refuses to answer, and, even as half his face is being held down in the gutter water, he glares at Smith fiercely and insolently. 

By then Isabelle and Furlan have had enough and they answer for him. For a minute there’s silence as they all wait for Smith’s next move. Levi's face is once more thrust in the puddle of filth, this time with so much force he’s laying flat on his stomach. He can taste the water, and it leaves choking and gagging, as he coughs and spits it out. His mind had gone black with fury. Smith threatens to move on to Furlan and Isabelle and that finally gets a verbal reaction from Levi. 

“You bastard...” 

“What is your name?” Smith commands without any reaction to Levi's insult.

“...It’s Levi.” 

“Levi." 

He’s helped up just as Smith takes a step forth into the puddle and then, his next action, is one that leaves Levi thunderstruck. 

The brown sludge that is water ripples as Smith _kneels_ fully before Levi. He can see how the stark white of his uniform pants begin to soak up the muddy water.

_“A man in the Survey Corps named Erwin Smith is trying to capture you and enlist you in the Military.”_

_“I’ll tell you this one thing...regardless of whether you accept this job or not, the target will still make contact. In other words you can't remain unrelated in this matter.”_

“Levi… My name is Erwin Smith, would you make a deal with me?” 

He’s looking at him, eyes no longer cold but… But Levi wouldn't be able to tell just what kind of emotion Erwin Smith is displaying as he asks him to strike up a ‘deal’. A part of him wants to ask what that even _means?_

Because it sounds like a choice. 

But he’s kneeling on the ground, with filthy sewer water soaking and dripping off of him, because Smith ordered it. He’s tasting it, smelling it. He got pawed and handcuffed because he _ordered_ it. And now hes’s making it sound like its a damn, fucking choice. 

So what if Erwin Smith is kneeling before him as well? So what if a man from aboveground, with golden hair and eyes like the sky, who’s made Levi feel lust and loathing and immense frustration - all before he knew his name - is kneeling before him and sounds earnest? So what if, yet again, he’s left Levi feeling blindsided, an itch beneath his skin, and all wound up? 

“Deal?” 

Erwin Smith feels like _whiplash._

Like when he's in the air and a swift, strong gale has suddenly come, and made him directionless. Like he's going from one extreme to the next, of the full spectrum of his emotions and beyond...

This golden pretty-boy ( _He's a man._ ) kneeling before him _wants him_ to join the Scouting Legion. 

_Erwin Smith wants you._

That voice sounds distorted and unfamiliar. He can't tell whose it is, just that… It can’t be Kenny, or Lobov...or...?

He looks up, coming back to himself, to Erwin Smith still kneeling before him - his confusing thoughts making him feel like he’d just flown way too high. 

“If I refuse?"

Smith stands back up, his reply is cold as he looks down at him, without the slightest change in his expression (no longer the same as before). It doesn't surprise him. Ultimately it doesn’t matter, it's just as Lobov had said and yet _everything_ is unexpected. But that’s why Smith came for Levi, for them. He glances at Furlan and Isabelle (unease and anger on their faces). Furlan gives him a slow, subtle nod. 

_“One day, we’ll get outta this trash heap and live up above.”_

Levi grits his teeth. 

“Very well,” he looks back at Smith. “ _I’ll_ join the Survey Corps.” 

The rage comes back up again, intense and burning, in a way that Levi has to suppress in order to stop himself from lashing out at Smith. It would be a futile and worthless attempt considering his reluctant acceptance, but Smith's face is still unchanged, as if his answered had been just as he’d planned… He doesn’t know yet, a voice reminds Levi. 

_Standing there like some well-raised rich bastard._

He glares at the _gold_ halo around him… 

_Throwing me down on this filthy dirt._

He hates the _blue_ of his eyes…

_Looking down on me like I’m some kind of worthless insect---_

_How dare you insult me like this…_

He hates that goddam leer... 

_How dare you lay a finger on my friends…_

Levi is so busy silently raging that he misses the slight sniff behind him and the raised eyebrow. He misses the way Erwin Smith follows a trail of water down his neck; his shirt collar open and the first button undone, makes it all the easier for those blue eyes to follow the path onto his exposed collarbone and then beneath his muddied shirt.

_I”ll show just what kinda fate awaits you Erwin Smith._

The stench of sewer water replaces that of spilled wine. Levi simply wants and craves that faint scent of Erwin Smiths blood. 

(And then over the next four months their _luck_ finally runs out.) 

. 

. 

. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was going to update last week but this dumb girl took 2 weeks of spring break instead of one (why did I think it was 2 weeks instead of 1????) and got super behind on her online school work (why does it seem like there's more online than in person?). Yeah, so I was dumb and had to catch up. It was intense, I felt like crying but I did it(!) and got a bit ahead in terms of school work. However, it will be a bit longer for the next update (than planned) cuz I have 3 exams coming up and they use online proctor and frankly that's got me paranoid cuz, what if my computer shuts off? or there's a power outage? or any sort of disturbance? and I wont be believed when I say what happened, and they fail me!?!? It's a legit concern of mine. Also I hate online classes (I've never taken any before).
> 
> Anyway no one cares. 
> 
> I hope everyone is doing okay and being safe and healthy. :)

**Author's Note:**

> So what did ya think? Hope you guys are looking forward to the next part. Thank you for reading and as usual I'd appreciate some feedback.


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